


away from home

by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader)



Category: Batman (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, More characters to be included over time but for now its pretty much just Dick, dicks break ends up being a lot longer than he anticipated, sick tim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:16:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7743046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownedcrusader/pseuds/batofgoodintent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(alt title; Five times that Nightwing came back to the Watchtower for a visit, and the one time he finally stayed.)</p><p>"Sometimes he wished he could distance his heart from the team as easily as he could distance his body. But no matter how hard he tried, he still cared. Every member of the team meant the world to him, and even if danger was what they did--their entire job--Dick couldn’t help but worry. </p><p>Especially over the younger ones. </p><p>Like Jaime, and Cass, and Impulse, and Gar and-- </p><p>And Tim."</p>
            </blockquote>





	away from home

**Author's Note:**

> sorry in advance for the internal monologue. id say the other chapters arent like this but i really wouldnt know, since theyre not written yet

It wasn’t that Nightwing was _avoiding_ the Watchtower, or even the BatCave for that matter. But Bludhaven had kept him busy, and now that he actually had the time to patrol it every night, he felt duty-bound to do so.

Bludhaven was no Gotham, though—and at the rate he was going, he had a feeling he might actually make an impact on crime rates. Maybe even a permanent one.

When he’d first taken a break, he’d intended for it to only last a few weeks. A couple of months, at most. Definitely not ten months and counting.

But he couldn’t find it in him to come back. Not yet.

It was hard even talking to old teammates, especially the ones he’d let down. Though he knew Connor had already forgiven him for withholding information, he knew things wouldn’t be the same between them. And La’gann… Lagoon Boy would probably never trust him again. 

And, Artemis.

 _Artemis_.

Even if she didn’t blame him, he couldn’t help but feel responsible.

Nightwing had been the _leader_ of Young Justice during the Invasion. If he hadn’t asked for Artemis and Wally to reenter the field, if he hadn’t asked them to give up the lives they’d made for themselves, they maybe. 

Maybe Wally would be alive. Maybe then everything Nightwing and M'gann and Artemis and Kaldur had done would be worth it. 

Maybe then Dick could still sleep soundly at night. 

Dick closed his eyes, slumping backwards in the office chair he’d spent so much time in lately. He needed to get his mind off of it; that much was clear. He knew it wasn’t wise to dwell on the past, and Batman was probably the best example. Decades had passed since Bruce’s parents were murdered, but he _still_ set all the clocks to the time of their death.

It’d be easy—too easy—to slip into the same mindset after Wally’s death.

But he couldn’t do that to himself. Couldn’t do that to the team. Couldn’t do it to Barbara, to Bruce, to Tim.

So he threw himself into Bludhaven instead.

It was probably the right thing to do at first, anyways. They looked up to him as their leader, and he knew damn good and well that if he tried leading a team while he was grieving, he was bound to slip up.

And he couldn’t be responsible for any more deaths.

He _couldn’t_.

So he kept himself distant from the team. He didn’t call, didn’t message, never asked for backup. It didn’t stop them from contacting him, of course, and he still got regular messages from the Team even all these months later. Especially Barbara. She kept him updated on what was going on, even if sometimes he felt like she was punishing him. Like she was trying to force him to come back, like she was telling him, _look at what's happened while you've been gone._

Sometimes, Dick was sure he’d be better off not knowing, like—

Like tonight.

Nightwing shook his head, trying to stop worrying, but…

He hadn’t been the Team’s leader for ten months. He didn't know why Barbara _insisted_ on sending him mission reports. Dick doubted that she _actually_ used them to punish him, and she knew better than to think that they were incentive to come back.

But.

She knew him better than he was willing to admit because, in his heart of hearts?

Most days, he appreciated them.

Every report that reported zero casualties, zero injuries—every progress report on how teammates were doing…

He was grateful that the Team continued on without him. He’d started it along with—with, with Kaldur and _Wally_ , and how two out of three were gone, and Kaldur had been acting as a double-agent for so long, and.

And.

It was good to know that the Team was still standing. That it hadn’t broken apart while he was gone. That everyone was safe.

So he appreciated the reports, really. He did.

Except for nights like these—reports like these.

It had only been a footnote towards the bottom, a tiny mention of Tim. Dick didn’t even know what Tim’s role in the mission had been, or if he’d been part of the mission at all—all he knew was that at the very bottom of the page, he was listed as ‘in the medical bay.’

It made Dick’s heart clench in fear because, had he gotten injured on a mission? On a patrol with Batman? Had something happened at _school_?

Dick hated that he didn’t know. Hated that Tim messaged him so rarely, and only ever contacted him to ask for advice with Robin duties. Even then, he was so hesitant about asking for help that Dick felt guilty if he _didn’t_ reply quickly.

Not that he didn’t feel guilty for ignoring the others.

But if he contacted them first, then he had to start taking responsibility again, and. 

He couldn't do that to them. Couldn't fail them again.

Sometimes he wished he could distance his heart from the team as easily as he could distance his body. But no matter how hard he tried, he still cared. Every member of the team meant the world to him, and even if danger was what they _did_ , their _entire job_ , Dick couldn’t help but worry.

Especially over the younger ones.

Like Jaime, and Cass, and Impulse, and Gar, and.

And _Tim_.

Dick tried to ignore the ache in his chest when he thought of the newest Robin. In his heart of hearts, he knew Tim was ready. The kid was smart. Too cautious, maybe, and a little too by-the-book sometimes, but he thought on his feet and he was loyal to a fault. Soon, he’d probably surpass Dick’s own hacking abilities (if he hadn’t already).

It wasn’t a question of age, either. He was fifteen now—a full two years older than Dick had been when he went on Young Justice’s founding mission. And six years older than Dick had been when he started out as Robin.

And yet, thinking of Tim in the field, or taken into the medbay? Thinking of how small he was, how much smaller than him or Jason or even Barbara?

His heart clenched painfully.

Maybe it was just because the anniversary of Jason’s death had passed so recently, but Dick couldn’t help the guilt and worry constricting his chest. Tim was so _young_ —they were _all_ so young. Dick hadn’t been old enough to realize it back then, back when he was thirteen and already more experienced than any child had a right to be. But there was something _wrong_ about sending children onto a battlefield, no matter how experienced they were.

Sure, he was proud of _his_ accomplishments, of _his_ history. But that didn’t mean he’d wish the same on anyone else.

Not after Jason.

And Tim wasn’t Jason—he knew that. They were both capable and talented, and they had both been ready for the work they did. But they weren’t the same person. No matter how much he wanted to take Tim under his wing—no matter how much he _should_ do it, anyways—it wouldn’t change the way he’d isolated Jason. The way he’d resented him, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

Not for the first time, Dick regretted not being more of a mentor to Jason when he still had the chance.

And now there was Tim, and Dick _still_ wasn’t living up to his duty.

Maybe he had in the beginning, back when he dealt with his grief by pouring his heart into the Team, back when he was so stiflingly protective of Tim that the newest Boy Wonder was perpetually in Gamma.

But now…

Dick forced himself to breathe, to not get choked up, to not let his emotions get the better of him. But even if he stayed calm, it didn’t change the guilt.

How many more people would he fail if he returned as the Team’s leader?

And how many more people was he failing right now by _not_ being there?

It had already been ten months since Nightwing took a break, and since… Since his best friend’s death.

If he waited much longer, a year would have passed, and he knew in his heart that he wouldn’t be able to rejoin the Team so close to the anniversary.

Truth be told, he wasn’t sure he could even rejoin _now_. It had been so long since he’d seen his friends—since he’d even _talked_ with most of them—and he wasn’t sure how welcome he’d be if he dropped by. But, it was late, and if he visited right then, he probably wouldn’t run into too many people.

It wasn't the first time he'd wanted to.

After all, he'd missed his Team, and, if he could, he wanted to make things right. Wanted to be there for his teammates, his friends. His family. So it was tempting.

So, _so_ tempting.

But for the first time, while he was contemplating visiting, a new message came from Barbara.

The entire team had been sent on a mission, save for those on medbay. Save for _Tim_.

If his guilt and regret meant anything at all, if he _ever_ meant to return, then Dick knew he needed to take advantage of the opportunity. He didn’t know the next time he’d have a chance like this, and if he was going to make good on it, he knew he needed to act quickly.

Before he was even sure of what he was doing, Dick’s domino mask was back on, and he was heading for a zeta-tube.

Whether he was ready or not, it was time for a visit.

 

* * *

 

When Nightwing arrived at the Watchtower, it was completely devoid of life.

The Justice League was gone, otherwise occupied—whether separately or working as a team—and Young Justice was on a mission of their own. Dick didn’t think he’d ever seen the tower so empty, but maybe that was because he’d either been _with_ the Team here, or on a mission with them. Never alone.

It sent a wave of anxiety through him, and for a while, Dick didn’t understand why.

It was no Mount Justice— _Mount Justice was gone, thanks to his own actions_ —but he still knew it as a home base. It was still a place he’d seen his teammates in, still a home-away-from-home. But seeing this place so vacant, so barren, made him instinctively worry for his Team’s safety.

It brought back too many memories of missions gone wrong and anxiety fueled dreams.

Dick shook his head, trying in vain to shake off the worry gnawing at his chest.

They were just on a mission, he tried to remind himself, and he hadn’t been invited along because he was still on break. It was fine. They were fine. They had it all under control.

 

* * *

 

(He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding when he walked past the Lounge. Though it was empty, there were signs of life in every empty pizza box and dirty sock lying around.

The Team had been there recently. Had been home recently. They were _alive_ and _whole_ and  _accounted for_.)

 

* * *

 

The medbay was exactly how it had looked when he’d left.

The same white and blue color scheme, the same pictures hanging up over the walls—even most of the bedding looked the same.

In fact, the only thing different about it seemed to be Tim himself.

Nightwing had never seen Tim in the medbay before. Maybe it was because he’d usually kept Tim on Gamma, maybe it was because the kid had been trained by the best and was already cautious by nature—whatever the case, he tended to avoid injury.

And Dick had to admit, he definitely preferred seeing Tim out of the medical bay than in it.

From what he could tell, though, it wasn’t an injury holding him here. There were no casts, no slings, and if Tim had any bandages, they were concealed well. It was definitely a relief, but Nightwing wasn’t ready to relax just yet. After all, Tim wouldn’t be here without a good reason; he never even turned down patrols, let alone mandatory missions.

As Nightwing walked closer, he was relieved to see that Tim was asleep. Though he’d been hoping for at least a brief conversation, it was a relief to know he could leave without _anyone_ knowing he was here. And that freedom was probably the reason he felt able to stay.

So, hesitantly, he approached Tim’s bedside and took the chair beside him.

There were medical records in a clipboard just beside the chair, and it said something about Batman’s training that he didn’t even think before looking through them.

 _Flu_ , one line said. _Dehydration and sodium deficiency_ , below it.

Nothing life threatening. Dick breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn’t put the clipboard down just yet. There were lines and checkboxes all through the forms—most of which were left empty—but towards the bottom, Nightwing paused. There were a few other notes, ones that made him furrow his brow in confusion.

 _Robin III is on indefinite bedrest until recovered_ , it said. _Patient participated in back-to-back missions despite the onset of the flu, and did not rest in the interim. Has been awake for over 28 hours. Collapsed post-mission; unreported on mission briefings upon request.  Will be scheduled for sessions with Black Canary once recovered._

Nightwing found himself rereading the last lines several times, just to be sure he’d read it right.

After all, this was _Tim_.

The Tim he’d known was cautious—almost overly so. And yeah, B had drilled duty into their heads, but never at the cost of their health and safety.

It bothered Nightwing to know that Tim’s illness had gone unreported in the earlier mission briefings. If he’d have known, he probably would have gotten here earlier—maybe even been able to help stabilize him.

Still, despite his lingering concern, Dick was incredibly relieved that the new Robin was okay. He was a little sick, a little dehydrated, maybe with some sinus problems and a low-grade fever. His body would need time to recover—and he would surely get a lecture from Batman once he was back at the Cave. But he’d be alright. Dick let out a slow, relieved sigh.

Tim was okay.

Without thinking, Dick gently leaned forward and brushed Tim’s hair off of his forehead. It had gotten longer, he noticed. Long and unruly. When had it gotten so long? How had Batman even allowed it? Did he just not have time to go to a hair salon anymore? Or was he purposefully growing it out?

And when had Tim gotten so tall?

He still wasn’t as tall as Nightwing—not even close—but he was definitely taller than he remembered. Lankier, too. For all the inches he’d grown height-wise, he was pretty scrawny—maybe even more-so than he’d been before.

Nightwing let out a long sigh, tiredly running a hand through his hair.

It had been so long since he’d last seen Tim. And if he was ever going to be a decent mentor, he knew he needed to see him more, to help him out whenever he needed—even just talking to him would be a start.

But for now?

Nightwing was just happy to be by his side. Even if Tim didn’t wake up while he was here, even if they didn’t say a word to each other, he was honestly just happy he was alright. That he was safe.

Dick was just settling in for the long-haul when he heard the zeta-tubes activating in the floor beneath him.

Fortunately it hadn’t woken Tim—and Dick was grateful, since Tim desperately needed the sleep.

But Nightwing was at a crossroads, now. Stay and be here for Tim and risk interacting with the Team? Or leave before he was caught, but without Tim ever knowing he was here?

The real question though, was _was he prepared to do that to Tim?_

It’s not like the new Robin was expecting him. No one expected him to show up anymore. It probably hadn’t even crossed Tim’s mind that Dick _could_ visit, let alone that he might. For some reason, that made his heart clench painfully.

Activity continued in the Watchtower, getting a little louder as more people filtered inside.

Dick bit his lip. It was only a matter of time before someone came through and spotted him. But his mind was made up, now. He refused to be seen, but he wouldn’t leave without giving Tim _some_ indication that he’d come. Even just something small. Something for Tim, only for Tim, because he wasn’t ready to face the rest of the team yet and he didn’t want anyone thinking he was showing favoritism.

So.

A note.

Nightwing gently pulled a blue notepad from inside of his boot, using the medical clipboard’s pen to scribble down a few words. It was nothing much, and Dick still didn’t know how much it would even mean to Tim that he’d visited, but…

It was a start.

He left the medbay after that and managed to slip past the majority of the Leaguers. Fortunately for him, it was the Justice League that had returned—not Young Justice. Even if they had noticed him (…which he was sure Batman undoubtedly had), they wouldn’t have stopped him or made any comment about his presence.

Nightwing slipped through the zeta-tube and was soon back at his apartment in Bludhaven, just as tired as he’d left it.

But despite his exhaustion, there was another feeling, too. Even if he’d only really seen Tim, and the new Robin had been asleep the entire time, he was _glad_ he’d gone back to the Watchtower.

However briefly, however unnoticed, he’d come home.

And now that he was gone again, the only thing he could feel was the sharp sting of homesickness. Dick leaned back in the office chair, staring up at the ceiling. He wouldn't get any sleep tonight, he knew, but it was probably a better idea to try than spend another full night working on cases. 

 

* * *

 

(When Tim awoke, it was to Batman and a splitting headache.

“You should have gone to the medbay earlier,” Bruce said, seated in a chair beside his bed. Despite the flat tone, Tim could tell he was concerned. It seemed Bruce was too busy poring over the medical notes to make eye-contact, but that was alright. Tim wasn’t exactly up for eye-contact right then, anyways. “Bedrest for another day. No missions or patrol until then.”

Tim just let out a sigh. His throat was too hoarse to reply, so silent consent was about all he could offer. Though he’d just slept for a full fourteen hours (on top of two hours spent unconscious in the bio-ship), he already felt himself starting to drift off again.

“There’s a note on your sheets,” Bruce added, tone just as flat as before. “Read it and remove it before the Team comes in.”

It took Tim a moment to move, but when he finally managed it, it was only because of the mention of the Team. As important as detective work was, Tim was too tired to deal with case notes. Part of him wanted, just once, to tell Batman _No_ , to roll over and go back to sleep before his Team invariably pounced on him and gave him well-wishing and health lectures.

But when his eyes finally landed on the blue post-it note, and the signature of _NW_ , he couldn’t help his surprise.

 _Don’t put yourself in danger like that again, baby bird, you worried me sick,_ it said. And even if he’d missed the signature, Tim knew there was only one person who called him that. Had Dick really...? _Now, get better soon—I’ll be asking BG to keep an eye on you, so don’t think you can get away with overdoing it. Understand?_

For a moment, he almost wondered if Batman had put Nightwing up to it, or if he’d faked the note completely.

But it would be too cruel to lie about, and it was too random to be a test. Nightwing never visited the Watchtower anymore—barely even checked up on them. So, though the chances were slim, he couldn’t help but hope that Nightwing had actually come.

So despite his sore throat, Tim forced himself to ask, “Did he…?”

“I found it already here.”

Tim’s heart jumped into his throat.

“Stash the note somewhere,” Batman said. “Before your Team comes through. He took great pains not to run into anyone, so for now…”

“Yeah,” Tim croaked. “For now we have to respect that.” Despite his disappointment at hiding Nightwing’s visit, there was still the thrill of hope. Because if he visited once, then it was entirely possible that he’d come again.)

 

* * *

 

(For once, Tim followed protocol and allowed himself enough downtime to fully recover. Everyone knew, after all, that when Nightwing gave you an order—even if he wasn’t Team Leader anymore—you followed it.)


End file.
